Edgeworth's Revenge
by xStormyx
Summary: One-shot continuation of Plywood & Cheese. Can probably be read as a stand-alone. What the hell was Phoenix thinking taking on the Demon Prosecutor?


**Nope, still haven't taken over Capcom so still do not own anything.**

"_Nick! What are you wearing!?"_

Phoenix groaned as Maya's gaping face tortured his tired eyes, her voice echoing in his ears. He was never going to live it down. As if he didn't get picked on enough for his hair – now he had this shame he was sure he was going to have to carry for the rest of his life.

The morning had started off okay – he'd woken up extremely early, hungover (which was only to be expected after the night before) and (for once in all his years as a lawyer) prepared for the trial ahead. What he hadn't been ready for was to find _all_ his clothes in the washing machine and the dryer option not working. So after half an hour of trying to dry his suit with the hair dryer, he clutched his head in despair and tried to recall when exactly he'd had the genius idea to throw his clothes in the washing machine the night before his trial and fallen asleep. He couldn't remember when he'd thrown his clothes into the wash but that was probably because he'd been as drunk as a skunk celebrating Edgeworth's birthday. And it was just then that the man in question had walked in, no sign of a hangover at all.

"What's wrong, Wright?"

Edgeworth's eyebrow rose as Phoenix explained his problem and just as the latter was about to kill the prosecutor for his indifferent behaviour, he sipped his tea and said, "Just take on of my suits. We're the same height."

He'd practically sprinted to Edgeworth's closet and almost wrenched the doors off. His relief was short-lived, however, when he saw that the selection of suits were magenta, magenta and –

"MAGENTA?!"

"Oh do grow up, Wright," Edgeworth had chided. "I know for a fact you wore bright prink in your college days."

"That was 5 years ago!!" Phoenix's protests had fallen on deaf ears.

Of course Edgeworth had insisted that he wear the frills along with the suit claiming Phoenix looked stupid without it. Phoenix begged to differ but Edgeworth barely listened. As if that hadn't been bad enough, he'd entered the bathroom to find his hair gel missing. He nearly turned the apartment upside down in his haste to find it but it seemed to have vanished completely. When he asked Edgeworth how he'd styled his hair so meticulously, the prosecutor replied he never used gel and if Phoenix couldn't find it, then he'd have to make do without horizontal stalactites sticking out of his head for the duration of the trial. And that's just what he'd ended up doing – he couldn't exactly not turn up for the trial. However, the lack of gel turned his hair very Edgeworth-y and he found himself avoiding anything he could see his reflection in. More than once he'd had a rabid fan-girl jump on him only to walk away disappointed (some even going so far as to call him a loser for trying to imitate the famed prosecutor) when they saw who he really was.

He groaned. He couldn't believe how the day had turned out. He'd won the trial but he was unsure whether it was due to his skill or the fact that everyone was far too preoccupied staring at his get-up to pay attention to the trial. He supposed he should be grateful that he'd won…

…but at what cost!?

Because the trial had been so high-profile, there had been masses of journalists outside the courthouse and, horror of all horrors, he'd walked right into the flashing lights. He'd been in such a hurry to get home and shed these ridiculous frills he'd forgotten that his dress sense and hair was… he didn't even have the word for it. To make matters worse, just as he'd managed to make his through the sea of media and made his way home, he'd found Larry hanging around outside the building a sketch in his hand.

A sketch of him.

Wearing frills. And Magenta. With floppy hair.

Phoenix had not been able to stop himself – he'd snatched the notepad off his friend, smacked him across the face with it and left him crying. Then just as he'd entered his flat, Maya had rung demanding to know what was going on.

"I just saw Edgeworth coming out of the courthouse even though you're the one who was supposed to – "

"It was me," Phoenix had replied irritably throwing his suitcase on the sofa and dropping next to it. He didn't need grief from Maya as well! However, the silence that followed had surprised him.

"…Come on webcam."

"Can't that wait? I'm tired."

"No. Now," had been her short reply before she hung up on him. He'd sighed and opened his laptop and fiddled around with the wires and buttons till the webcam was working. Maya had taught him how to use it the last time she'd visited and he still hadn't quite got the hang of it. The moment he'd signed in he saw Maya staring expectantly at the screen before gaping and screaming,

"It _was_ you!!"

"Yeah," Phoenix replied tiredly tugging at the frills disgustedly. "Who else?"

"Nick! What are you wearing!?"

It was with a red face and an annoyed tone that he explained the situation to her and she listened with a straight face – for the most part. He'd seen the way her face seemed to lose composure every so often as if she was going to erupt into giggles. Her connection seemed to 'go' very soon after and while she claimed it was due to the lack of coverage in Kurain, Phoenix had seen her reach for the wire and pull it out just before the feed died. So now he was sat in a pair of casual trousers and a sweater with his head in his arms. He was going to be the laughing stock of the nation. He'd been caught on _cameras_. He'd been dressed in _pink_ and _frills_.

_What had he done to deserve this!?_

"That seems to be a favourite pose today," a very cultured voice broke the silence and Phoenix lifted his head from the table just enough to see Edgeworth walk into the kitchen and lay down his suitcase next to his own which was still on the sofa. "Did you not win the trial Wright?"

"I did," he mumbled before hiding his face again.

There was a silence and Phoenix didn't bother checking to see whether Edgeworth had left or not. He was trying his hardest to focus on the darkness behind closed eyes but instead all he could see was the reflection he'd caught in one of the shop windows on his way home. He'd looked ridiculous. Simply ludicrous and there was nothing he could do to undo it.

Suddenly, there was a scraping of a chair on the floor and Edgeworth's voice asking, "What is it?"

"Nothing," Phoenix said. It was stupid to refuse to say this as he knew Edgeworth had already seen or would see the Edgeworth wanna-be leaving the courthouse.

"I assume you were unhappy with your physical make-up today?"

Phoenix froze. The prosecutors voice was laced with too much amusement and glee – his lawyer senses were tingling just like it always did at the suspicious. He raised his head slowly until he was eye to eye with his friend who was lounging in the chair. The smirk on his face was more infuriating than ever – it was the smirk he wore when he was about to present damning evidence he knew would make Phoenix fumble and bumble in his attempt at setting things rights.

"Did you have something to do with…?" Phoenix asked, a light coming on in his head.

"Did I have something to do with what?" Edgeworth asked smoothly, examining his well manicured nails. Too smooth, Phoenix thought. His mind drifted over the past few weeks to that one night he'd found Edgeworth in a tangle of bed sheets screaming hysterically about…

Plywood.

Oh. My. God.

"You got me drunk last night?!" Phoenix demanded as he clenched his fists.

"What the devil are you talking about Wright?" Edgeworth frowned. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"Because of what happened the night before the Storms case!" His eyes widened in horror. "You got me drunk for revenge!"

"Really, Wright," Edgeworth sighed in exasperation. "Do you believe me to be so unimaginative that I would imitate your little stunt?"

Phoenix thought about that. It was true, Edgeworth believed himself to be far too classy to copy someone else. If he had wanted revenge, he would do it in a far more elaborate and creative way.

"Sorry," he mumbled slouching back into his former position. "I should have known you'd never do something like that…"

It happened again. The light. The realisation.

He gasped.

He shot up and found Edgeworth smirking again. "You're the one who put my clothes in the wash!?" A nod. A smirk. "And the gel??"

"Let's say, I saved Larry a few dollars on hair products." Another smirk.

"You gave away my gel…" Phoenix choked out. "And… your clothes…"

"Oh, Wright." Edgeworth said leaning forward and patting his arm. "You might not remember but that's not all."

"Wh-What do you mean!?" Phoenix stammered, dread in his stomach.

"I made sure to give you a fond memory last night – to prepare you for the day ahead."

Phoenix simply stared at him, the unease in his stomach growing stronger and stronger with every passing minute. He couldn't remember anything about last night except knocking back drink after drink.

"You don't remember?" Edgeworth asked with a smile. "Maybe it's just as well." He stood up and pushed the chair back under the table and walking towards the exit. "I don't know how you'd react…"

"Wait!!" Phoenix exclaimed. "What the hell are you talking about!?"

Edgeworth stopped at the doorway but didn't turn around. "You gave me some very fond memories too Wright."

Phoenix exploded. "WOULD YOU JUST STOP BEING SO AMBIGUOUS!!"

"Remember that thing I always wanted you to do but you never did?" Edgeworth said and the smile in his voice was too evident. "You did it. And I liked it."

And with those words, he walked out of the kitchen leaving a stunned Phoenix gasping for air. He couldn't believe he had failed to see the signs, he couldn't believe Edgeworth had managed to make him do – _that_. And he couldn't believe he'd been stupid enough to tease the man once known as the Demon Prosecutor. What had he been thinking??


End file.
